


Bloodraven 2.0

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-23 09:59:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16156745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A college girl dies after a night at a bar and awakens in a pool of the Winterfell godswood.Nobody wanted this, but I wrote 6k words in one night so I was like what the hell, I might as well post it.





	1. Chapter 1

Rickon Stark sat crosslegged before the Heart Tree. It was cold at such an early hour, but it wasn’t so bad with Shaggydog. A twig snapped. The boy and his dire wolf paid it no attention. Osha had been in his dream too. The wildling woman wasn’t quite yet awake. Her eyes were swollen and her voice was thick. 

“What’re you doin’ out here little lord?” She asked. 

“Waiting.”

“What for?”

“You’ll see.”

“Come wait inside.”

“No. It’s here.”

She frowned and sat down in the damp grass beside him. Rickon liked that about her. She was scared of it, that much was obvious, and yet she always believed him. The others always said he was pretending. They even said it about Bran and Bran was the Lord Of Winterfell now. As if summoned by his thoughts, heavier footsteps sounded and Hodor came carrying the Lord. Lewin shuffled behind, his protests dying out when he spotted Rickon. 

“Lord Rickon?” The old man asked. 

“I told you,” Bran sighed. “Did you dream it too, Rick?” 

He nodded. “An old woman was born in the pool.”

“She wasn’t old. She just had white hair.”

“She had white hair and she was short. Of course she was old. Only old women look like that.”

“That’s not true, little brother.”

Rickon rolled his eyes, but didn’t feel like arguing. It was too early. He was tired. Between hunting with Shaggy and dreaming of the old woman, he didn’t get a lot of sleep. It might even be nice to take a nap while they waited. 

Those thoughts were swept out of his mind when Shaggy stood to attention. An energy was so thick in the humid godswood that the direwolf felt it even through his layers of dirty fur. Usually, it would make him pace and snarl. Rickon wasn’t scared though, so Shaggy was calm. 

A single bubble appeared in the dark pool directly under the godswood. It was weird that she would be born from that one. It wasn’t even that deep. There were deeper ones in the wood that even father still bathed in. Had bathed in. Nobody except for Bran had believed Rickon’s dream about his dying either. Maybe they’d believe him more after she was here. 

Air bubbles rose to the surface and a pale hand clawed through the water as if it were mud. Another joined it soon after. They waved around, almost funny, except Rickon thought he wouldn’t want someone to laugh at him for drowning. The hands grasped grass at his side of the pool. Thin arms flexed and clawed and a dark head of curls emerged from the black water. The girl gasped and sputtered and pulled herself out. 

Lewin whispered a prayer as Rickon frowned. She wasn’t an old woman. She didn’t have white hair. She didn’t even look like a woman. He hadn’t seen many of them naked, hadn’t wanted to, but she was skinny and short and didn’t look too different from a boy. 

The girl curled on her side before the weirwood tree. At Bran’s polite request, Osha, very awake and very pale, treaded forward cautiously. The not-old woman was shivering. She wrapped the cloak around her like a blanket. Maester Lewin slowly made his way closer too. It was obvious he was scared. Adults were always scared of stupid things. The girl wasn’t there to hurt them. 

Lewin did whatever a Maester did to just born not-old women. Just as Rickon was about to get bored or maybe fall asleep, there was a great pulse of magic from the tree and the wolves howled. He couldn’t resist the urge to do it with them. Even Bran was licking his lips a little bit. Then, the sky darkened. Ravens, more ravens than he’d ever seen, descended upon the girl. Lewin and Osha ducked, but the birds swooped to land on the tree. There were so many it looked like the branches had sprouted black leaves. 

The tree cried. The sap that looked so much like blood gushed from its eyes. 

And then the not-old woman jerked up. 

She stared around the clearing, blinking like she was confused. Upon seeing Hodor, she tilted her head to the side. She gazed down, as if looking for someone, and smiled when she saw Bran and Summer. 

“What a cool dream,” she said. 

“My lady-“ Lewin began.   
“Oh, Lewin!” She jumped up, uncaring of her nudity, and embraced the old man tightly. Rickon wished he could have seen his face. The girl patted his cheek affectionately and resumed her perusal of the godswood. She gave Rickon the biggest grin of them all. She had the straightest, whitest teeth she’d ever seen. Maybe she was part wolf like him.

She frowned at the Heart Tree. She walked to it as slowly as Osha had walked to her. 

“Why is it crying?” she asked. 

When no-one answered her, she raised a pale hand to wipe away its tears. 

Her head jerked back, her eyes turned bright red. Her brown curls straightened out into molten silver. The birds all croaked. Rickon thought it sounded an awful lot like laughter. 

* * *

 

My life is shit. It was shit for a long time, but then I made it better. So now the shittiness seems even shittier. I worked really fucking hard for three years so I could move to the city. I moved to the city despite -or maybe in spite- of all of the _‘oh, i’m sure you will, honey’_ looks, and enrolled in college. I had pretty good roommates, one of which had a dog. My apartment was spacey. Best of all though, I had friends. I had so many friends: study friends, girly friends, movie friends, party friends. I was with my party friends when I died. 

We went to the bar, to the season premiere event for Game of Thrones. I was sitting on the curb with Denice, taking snapchats, when headlights blinded me. 

There was a lot of pain. A. Lot. It felt like someone was beating every inch of me with sledgehammers. Then, that pain stopped and another one, more focused, but just as terrible, consumed me. 

I was drowning. 

I thought it was a dream first. That I had passed out and had a dream about Game of Thrones because of the bar.

No. It is not a dream. Bloodraven sorted that out for me real quick. 

Bastard. 

I called him that and he laughed at me. Right before I blacked out. Right after he turned me into a Twilight vampire. Eugh. Seriously. I look soooooo cheesy. My hair is straight, which is actually kind of nice, but it’s white and my eyes are red. RED! It’s awful. People keep staring at me all the time. I don’t know how I’m supposed to save this stupid world if I can’t blend in. 

And seriously who the fuck did this to me? Why _this_ world? Why didn’t I wake up in Hogwarts or Bikini Bottom or some shit? 

No. I had to land in the most violent, misogynistic piece of shit world that has ever existed. 

I spit out my toothpaste with a little bit more force than necessary. It’s actually pretty tasty and probably better than the chemical-laden stuff from my world. My red irises glare back at me from the washbasin. I will never use indoor plumbing again. 

The door opens. I brandish my wooden toothbrush like it’s a sword. 

Fuck. I guess I’ll have to learn to use one of those. I’ve never been in a fight in my life. I don’t exercise. My exercise was taken Gia’s poodle on a walk. 

The littlest Stark and his black direwolf, which is actually bigger than him, are lumbering in the doorway. I was not magically transported into the television show. They don’t even look like I imagined them to in the books. These are real honest to god flesh and bone people with their own flaws and imperfections. 

I shrug on an old shirt before I turn to Rickon. “You should knock.”

“Why?”

“You can’t just barge into a girl’s room. I didn’t even have my shirt on!” 

I was covered, at least. The maids left me a stack of mismatched clothes, including surprisingly soft underwear and a weird bralette-bandage kind of thing. It made me glad I don’t have boobs. I’d hate to have to wear a corset. 

“So?”

“So? You’re a little boy and it’s not okay for you to see naked women yet.”

“But you look like a little boy.”

I glare at him. He squares up and squints back.

“Rickon!” A voice calls. Soon after, Maester Lewin is huffing around the corner. He winces when he sees that Rickon is posturing himself threateningly outside of my door.“My lady, forgive me, Osha is bathing and-“

I wave it off. “No worries. You might want to teach him to knock.”

“Rickon!”

He scoffs. “She looks like a little boy too!”

The maester’s goes as grey as his robes.

“Don’t sweat it,” I say, ignoring the little shit. “Just....you know that not everyone is as forgiving. Bran is evidence of that.”

His bushy brows furrow over his hooked nose. “My lady?”

I sigh. “Who is here that you trust absolutely?”

“Ser Rodrik Cassel, the master of arms”

Awww, Jory. What a great dude. I wish I could have saved him. “Lady Catelyn?”

His sorrow is palpable. “On her way to Lord Robb, last we heard.”

Well, Ned is dead but the Red Wedding has yet to happen. I can stop that, at least. And maybe if I can get Jon to help, I can stop the world from ending. 

Jesus Christ. I just wanted to have fun in college, not carry the Ring to Mordor. 

“Alright. Lead the way. And grab some food too. It’s going to be a long day.”

In the end, Ser Rodrik, Bran, Lewin, Osha and myself sit in the Lord’s solar. Its probably best that Catelyn isn’t here. She’s such a strict woman and admirably protective of her kids. Rickon’s too young for this conversation. Honestly, Bran is too, but he needs to know. And Osha would have been turned away without second thought. The wildling woman is afraid of me. She makes it a point to look away from eyes. I would too. 

“Well. I don’t really know how to begin,” I admit. In an effort to gather my thoughts, I glance around the room. It’s the first round room I’ve ever been in. Then again, I don’t think I’ve ever been in a tower. Definitely not a castle. The whole place is made of dark stone and sparsely decorated while managing to remain very cosy. I want nothing more than to curl up with a good book and never leave. 

“What’s your name, my lady?” Bran asks politely. 

I can’t help but smile at that. “Zoe Erickson. I am a- was a... scholar, I guess you would call it.”

“Like a maester?”

“Sort of. I went to a city to study at a specific place for a specific thing, but it wasn’t to learn how to be a maester.”

“What was it?”

“I wanted to edit a news channel.” It was an odd, but more importantly, achievable dream. I learned long ago not to waste my efforts on stupid things. 

All of them stared at me in utter confusion. 

“My world has a sort of, uh, letter that is sent out with the most important events for everyone. My job would have been to help record those events.”

“How did you keep them from being stolen?” Lewin asks, his scholarly curiosity showing. 

“You didn’t,” I say, working very hard to simplify the complexities of modern information sharing and retrieving. “We just made it accessible to everyone to make it-“

“Why are you here,” Osha demands. 

How rude!

“To save your asses,” I retort haughtily. 

“Osha,” Lewin says sharply. 

The woman laughs. “How’s a skinny little girl maester going to save our hides?”

I meet her angry gaze, determined to not look away. It’s very difficult, especially knowing she could be over the table with a knife in my throat in a second. “I know. All of it. I’m going to try to stop it from happening.” 

“How?” She demands again, her teeth gritting. 

I look at Bran. “There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. Do you know why?”

The boy gulps and shakes his head. I try not let my disappointment show too much. He’s just a kid, after all. I can’t let him think he’s fucking it up before it even starts. 

“I don’t either my lord, but I think it’s very, very important.”

“Why?” Ser Rodrik asks, speaking for the first time. 

I share a long look with Osha. We’re the only people within a hundred miles that know the truth, that know what’s coming for them. Us. Hopefully her fear will subside into some awesome girl power and we can kick their asses together. “She’s told you what the Wildlings are running from. You don’t believe her, but it’s true. I saw it all. Robb lost the war. The North fell. Winterfell was sacked and taken. Winter came and the Others won.”

They’re all very quiet. I’m not really sure about the Others winning, but I think that must have been what was going to happen. Why else would I be here? It’s a hard story to believe, even for me, but they saw me climb out of a shallow pool and turn into an albino while ravens laughed at me. They can’t deny there are unbelievable things happening. 

“I think I was meant to intervene and I’m totally going to need some help.”

“How?” Rodrik croaks. 

“I want to try to get Jon off the Wall. He’s more use against the White Walkers trying to help his family. I don’t know if I can convince any of them of that or if they’re even still at the Wall. Then, I’ve got to keep Robb from making the same mistakes, rescue Sansa and find Arya, but I don’t know how I’m going to do all of that at the same time and that’s a lot of fucking traveling and I’ve never been on a horse before or swung a sword. And that’s just the beginning! After all of that, it’s going to be an even bigger mess. And that’s just the Starks. There are so many awesome people that died.”

They’re all quiet once more, Bran openly gaping. Lewin’s brows are furrowed so deeply that it’s turned into a unibrow. Speaking of, do they have eyebrow wax or tweezers or what here? And what about my pits? 

Ohmigod. They don’t have tampons. 

What the fuck am I gonna do then? 

“Lady Zoe, you have all of the support we can give you.“

“Thank you, Bran,” I say weakly. But I doubt you have any tampons on you. 

“What all will you need?” He asks kindly. Tampons!

“I don’t know.” I don’t even know what they have. Definitely not tampons. 

“This is all one long battle, is it not? Let’s make a strategy. What is our priority?”

“Tampons.” The word is out of my mouth before I’ve even considered it. “Sorry. Bran and Rickon. You need more protection here in case things go wrong.”

Rodrik nodded gravely. “I’ve been thinking on that myself. What’s this about them not being on the Wall? Who? And where would they go?”

“Mance Rayder is building the biggest army you’ve ever seen,” Osha said, a slight hint of pride shining through. 

“The Lord Commander, what’s his name? Mormont, you- ohhhhh yeah, I remember now. What badasses. Anyway, he was attacked by a wight and Jon saved his life. So, with that and the Wildling army, they thought it was best to go investigate, which was really stupid and led to their fall too. Jon was elected next and he tried to let the Wildlings through, but then they killed him-“

“They killed Jon?! The Nights’ Watch?!” Bran asks. His pale face has gone as red as his hair. 

“He tried to let them through?” Osha asks wonderingly. 

“Duh. It’s Jon. Every dead wildling is another soldier for the Night King. And there were a lot. Then the Wall fell-“

“WHAT?!”

“Yes. The Night King destroyed the Wall. There was no longer a northern army, the seven kingdoms had been in a civil war for years. It was a disaster.”

The master at arms scratches at his mustache. “Civil war for years, you say? So Jon Snow is at the Wall or near it all this time?”

I nod. 

Rodrik murmurs as he ponders the pile of horseshit he’s found himself in. “Perhaps it’s best if you go to Lord Robb while we do our best to convince Jon to come home. You can work with him to rescue Sansa and Arya.”

“Tell Jon that. Tell him to help me with them at least.”

“When can you leave? What will you need?”

I sigh and think of all the things I need but I’ll never have. A cellphone, a toilet, a car. Tampons. It’s going to be a long, shitty life.


	2. Chapter 2

The Northern army is massive. Absolutely huge. The tents go on and on until the night sky meets the green hills. There’s a loud clamor of horses and men that ensure that no one could possibly get any sleep. The stench is nearly unbearable, too. If a herd of horses spent a week with a high school football team in the woods, this is what it would smell like. Honestly though, I’m too tired and hungry to complain. 

Brandon Stark was true to his word. He gave me everything he could. He even fulfilled my clothing wishes. I went with what Dany wore on the show. Short dresses, leggings, and boots. It’s feminine, practical, and not too out of place. I’ve got some extra shirts and tunics in case I want to just wear that. It’s all so drab. No wonder the Starks are known as being so grim. Even their wardrobe is depressing. The North doesn’t have a lot of vibrant dyes or pretty patterns. It’s really evident why Sansa wanted to leave. I can’t blame her for wanting some color in her life. 

The shoes, however, are the best I’ve ever worn. Custom made leather boots! It’s a luxury I never would have been able to afford. Definitely not worth travel by horseback, though. This shit is awful. My legs are raw. My ass is sore. My vagina hurts. I’m a mess. I don’t know how dudes do it with something dangling between their legs. 

The three men I’ve brought with me have been stellar. They’re so patient and not creepy at all, but that might be because I’m super creepy now. I was hesitant about spending weeks in the wilderness with three armed mountain men but they’ve been sweethearts. It helps that I can kick their asses. I figured that out on the fourth night. Ivan, Erik, and Loki (oh man, did he love the stories I told him about Loki) are from the Mountain Clans and therefore totally cool with teaching a girl how to fight. Ser Rodrik even sent me along with tourney swords to practice. Turns out, I didn’t really need them. The Old Gods, or maybe Bloodraven, or maybe Bloodraven is the Old Gods, apparently gave my brain sword lessons when they turned me into a Bloodraven 2.0. I don’t even have to think when there’s a sword in my hand. I just _do_. And archery? When my arms are strong enough, I’ll have Orlando Bloom shivering in his factory made boots.

While my brain is up to par, my body is not. I’ve always been petite and I’ve always had a busy so I really didn’t see a reason to work out. Between the waitressing during the day and bartending at night, then the college classes during the day and the bartending at night, I never had time to go to the gym. I worked in a few squats when I felt like it -my ass is my best feature, but I know it won’t be forever- but that was pretty much my sorry excuse for a fitness regimen. Now I’ve got to work on my endurance, strength and speed. And work on saving the world. Eugh. Gross. 

At least I don’t need any tampons yet. Osha gave me a sponge that works like a period cup. I wanted to cry when I saw it. 

“Think they’re up?” I ask Erik as we follow the guards to Robb Stark’s tent. I’m oddly nervous. I have to pee really bad like I did when I was in line for roller coasters on a field trip in high school. Is riding a roller coaster like riding a dragon? Will I ever ride a dragon?

“Aye,” he grunts. “They’re at war. If it ain’t a lover, it’s some ale, and if ain’t the ale, it’s a meeting.”

I wouldn’t be too upset about taking Robb from a lover. He’s too much of an idiot with them. Giving up his kingdom for a girl. Like what the fuck. Maybe I’ll greet him with a kick in the balls. I disregard the thought as soon as I think it. I’ll probably lose a foot for something for that. They take us to a big tent near the edge of the camp. It’s plain but thick and a huge direwolf banner is posted above. I’m suddenly reminded of the war camp from the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. That was such a good movie. And such a better book. I bet Sansa would love it.

Erik helps me dismount. My body is stiff and sore, but stretching helps. I think I’ll demand to travel by ship next time. 

There’s a sharp gasp and a change in the atmosphere. I glance up from my impromptu yoga session to see Grey Wind watching me. He’s leaner than Shaggydog and Summer, but much taller. There’s something more threatening about him too.You know, besides the whole massive, mystical wolf thing. 

The tent opens and a large auburn haired man steps through. Robb Stark is quite handsome. Very rugged, with this beard and fur and leather and the direwolf. He’s regal too. It’s obvious that he’s born to lead. Bran was polite and kind, but this older brother of his has a sort of wild refinement to him.His blue eyes, the same eyes that Bran and Rickon have, roam over me curiously.

“I dreamed a white shadow cat came to me in the middle of the night. She brought an albino direwolf with her. Where is my brother?” 

“Jon? You dreamed he was coming here?”

“Is he not with you?”

“No. Bran was trying to convince him to come. It might have worked.”

“You’ve seen Bran?” A woman asks. 

I turn to who can only be Catelyn Stark. She’s beautiful but I still want to punch her. What a selfish bitch. 

“Yes,” I say flatly. I might not like her but I can’t be mean to their mother. Doesn’t mean I have to kiss her ass. “He and Rickon send their love. To both of you.”

Robb’s grim countenance fades a bit at that. “How are they?”

“Bran’s annoyed, but he’s coping. Rickon is angry.”

Catelyn sways and covers her mouth. It might have been sweet if it weren’t so cliche for the honorable lady to swoon so nobly. 

“We should go inside,” another woman suggests. Maege Mormont, I’d guess. She’s got resting bitch face, greying hair and a sword strapped to her side. My kind of woman.

“Yes, just us though,” I demand.

“I need my men,” Robb says. 

“No. Only you and your mother.”

“Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of my men.”

“No. Listen, bring a guard if you want, but I’m too tired to try to kill you anyway.”

Ivan laughs beside me, resting his arm on my shoulder.I scowl up at him. It’s so annoying when they think it’s cute to do that. Most people don’t even realize they’re doing it. They’re just like ‘h _ey look a short person, an armrest!_ ’. “That’s the truth. Girl’s never even sat on a horse and we made it from Winterfell to here in twelve days.”

Robb’s brows raise and he eyes me in a different light. “We can discuss this inside.”

I nod gratefully. I walk into his tent, absentmindedly scratching Grey Wind’s chin as I pass. Robb’s eyes widen and his mother frowns. She doesn’t like me. Good. Maybe I can get away with fucking with her if she’s rude first. 

The tent is surprisingly bright. There’s a big cot, a bunch of furs and stacks of books. He must be brushing up on his history. Smart of him. He leads me to a small table that is covered with maps and parchment. Its meant for dining but seems to serve other uses. I groan as I collapse into the chair. I might fall asleep before we can argue. 

“Your Grace,” Catelyn says sternly. “Her weapons.”

“You’re king already? I guess that makes sense. Anyway, _ugh_ , as if. If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t do it tonight anyway. I’m exhausted. Didn’t Lewin write you?”

“Aye.” Robb says. “But this is war.”

“Fair enough,” I concede with a shrug. And then, remembering where I am, I almost slide into a kneel at his feet. “I, Zoe Snow, Messenger of the Old Gods, pledge my wisdom to the King Robb of House Stark. In other words, they sent me here to keep you from fucking things up again.”

He stares down at me with confusion while his mother tuts at my language. I ignore her completely. 

“Again?”

I nod. “I saw it all happen.”

He helps me back into my seat. What a gentlemen. 

“What did I do?” He asks with a painful grimace. 

There’s a newfound respect for the dude. I mean, he believes this weird looking girl that shows up at his war tent in the middle of the night and automatically accepts that he fucked up his time as King in an alternate reality. Maybe he’s not a complete idiot. Maybe he’s just a young man thrust into saving a lot of people and made some wrong choices along the way. I can definitely relate to that. 

“It wasn’t all you. The Lannisters - no, that’s not right. Tyrion isn’t a bad person and Jaime has his own-“

“Jaime? You know the Kingslayer?”

“I know of him, yes. This is all besides the point. Everyone did something wrong, and all of those wrongs just combined into one huge wrong and it was just a mess. I’m here to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

“What wrongs?”

“Well, you haven’t met a pretty foreign nurse have you?”

Robb winces. I roll my eyes. 

“Send her away. Now,” Catelyn demands. I’m not sure if she’s talking about me or the nurse. 

“Why?” Robb asks, never looking away from me. 

“The North will fall because of her,” I tell him bluntly. 

“Why.”

“Does it matter?” Catelyn interrupts. We both look at her. She’s not happy. Her lips are pressed into a thin line and her hands are clenched tight together. “I never followed your father’s gods, but I cannot deny their existence. They sent the direwolves to look after you and now....her. Listen to her Robb. Send the girl away.”

Damn. Maybe I can't fuck with her. 

“This is foolish,” he scoffs.

“Robb-“

“It’s late. Mother, would you mind showing the lady to her tent?" 

Catelyn chews on her tongue like she wants to say something but merely nods her head and motions for me to follow. I sigh and force myself out of the tent. 

"Grey Wind," Robb commands.   


"No, sir!" I cry. "No spying, Robb Stark. That is not very kingly of you." 

A look of utter shock and chastisement passes over him. It reminds me of catching drunks stealing lemons to snack on at the bar. He grumbles something. Catelyn comes to my rescue. "Robb, leave this for tonight. We can convene in the morning after we all have rest and a bath." 

"Yes, mother" He sounds exactly like Rickon. The little shit. I already miss him, oddly enough. 

Lady Stark does not speak as she leads me through a maze of canvas and furs. Her posture is impeccable. I try to imitate it and fail miserably. Perhaps I should try to find a corset of some kind. It's humbling and shameful that I didn't think she would have a strength of her own. In the modern world, women don't need to swing swords to be badasses. There's no reason it should be any different here. The swooning and gasping is a bit over the top. She stops outside a small, white tent not too far from Robb's. I doubt that's a coincidence.

"Thank you, my lady. Or...Queen Mother?"   


She gives me an exasperated smile. "Lady Stark is sufficient."

"Thank you. Umm....can you have a bath brought tomorrow? I don't want to use the rivers with so many men nearby."   


"Of course. You are a divine guest of the King. I have assigned a handmaiden to assist you."  


"Oh, that's not necessary, not really. I've been handling it alright on my own." 

She tilts her head. "You quite remind me of my youngest daughter."

I scrunch my face. "I think I'm more of Sansa. Just a more colorful vocabulary." 

Lady Stark genuinely smiles at that. It transforms her sad grace into a lively beauty. Even old and wrinkled she will make men's hearts stutter.  

"Good night, Lady Zoe." 

"Don't let the bed bugs bite." 

She gives me that amused, confused expression that I've grown so used to. I go into my tent, collapse onto the heavenly furs and get the worst night's sleep of my life. 


	3. Chapter 3

Fuck Bloodraven.

My dreams begin normal enough. I’m hurrying through a maze of darkened hallways and hidden tunnels. Claws clack against the stone behind me. Armor clanks and men pant. Yet I’m not scared. We’re running to someone, not from them. Then I’m awake, my body sore and aching.

Next thing I know, I’m folded up and bouncing in time with a horse’s rushing gallop. I know it well enough by now. There’s someone here with me. It makes it all very, very hot. I wake when I throw the covers off of myself.

The third dream is serene. A beautiful, scarred lion prowls at my side. His green eyes shine in the starlight. I lead him to massive weirwood tree with a conspiratal smirk carved into its trunk. The lion places it’s great, bleeding paw on the trunk and lets out a sad roar. I wake up much colder.

I bundle back up and fall back asleep. The dream happens again. Fury pulses through my body with each heartbeat. I’m fucking exhausted. I’m not used to this shit. Yeah, New Yorkers walk an average of ten miles a day, but we don’t cover hundreds of miles on horseback in twelve. While practicing how to swordfight! I’m starving. I want a Dr. Pepper. I’m so desperate for toilet paper that I would take single ply. And this motherfucker sends me on an errand without any sleep. Like he couldn’t wait a few hours to talk to Jaime fucking Lannister.

I rip the sword from its sheathe and shove my feet into my boots. I stomp through the camp, kicking mud on every thing I pass. I can’t bring myself to care until I realize it’ll be impossible to clean my shoes.

Jaime fucking Lannister isn’t hard to find. I just have to follow the lights and the jeers. He’s had to have been here for a few weeks. Why are they still bothering to make fun of him? The smell hits me before the cage does. It reeks. They’ve put his cage near enough to the stables for them to shovel a few pounds of waste against one side of the iron bars. He’s handcuffed to a pole and utterly filthy. I don’t think they’ve let him bathe since he was defeated. There’s no chamber pot, no bedroll. Just the trunk he’s tied to.

Northern honor, my ass.

Even through the muck, he’s incredibly attractive. His matted blonde beard frames full, pink lips and though his cheeks are shallow, his eyes are glinting emeralds. He notices me first. Those haunting eyes trail from my silver hair to my black boots before he smirks. I knew he was one of those people that annoy you just for the hell of it, but damnit, it still gets to me.

“Let me in,” I demand.

The jailor pales. “My lady-“

“Let. Me. In.”

“I cannot-“

To my complete horror, tears start to burn in my eyes. I’m so frustrated and tired and just UGH.

“Let me in or I’m going to wake up the king at this ungodly hour just for him to tell you to open it.”

The gears turn in his mind. Finally, with heavy shoulders, he unlocks the cage. I plant my sword into the mud near the entrance before I plop down in front of the golden boy.

“Hello, Ser Jaime.”

“Good evening. I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”

“I am Zoe Snow.”

“How odd for a witch of the Old Gods to have a Dornish name.”

“I didn’t know it’s a name in Dorne too. That’s interesting. Are they gossiping about me?”

“Cluttering like old hens. They’re more scared of you than they are of me.”

“Are you scared of me?”

“Are you scared of me?”

“Duh. I’m not an idiot.”

“Finally. It’s been a moon’s turn since I’ve conversed with someone exceeding the mental capability of a three year old.”

“I’m sorry for this,” I say, looking around his cage. “I’ll try to do something about it.”

“I doubt they’ll find any warmth in their hearts. I took down several of their heirs.”

“It’s war. They can’t torture you for being better than them.”

He gives his cuffed hands a gentle shake. “It seems they can.”

“That they can. Do you know what your son is doing to his betrothed?”

“You must be mistaken, friend. I haven’t fathered any sons.”

“Why did you push him?” This answer will seal his fate, or whatever hand I have in it. Trying to kill an innocent child is one thing. Doing it to protect your own child? That’s another. I don’t have any children. I’ve never wanted them. But I honestly don’t know what I would do. Why should my children pay for my sins? Why should someone else’s?

The apple of his throat bobs. “For love.”

“Love of whom?”

Jaime stares past me at something far away from here. His youth is suddenly apparent. He isn’t very old at all. He can’t be nearing forty yet. Thirty five maybe? And all the things he’s seen, the things he’s had to do. No wonder he’s codependent on his manipulative twin.

When its apparent that he isn’t going to answer, I ask, “Yourself?”

“No.”

“Your sister?”

He hesitates. “No.”

That’s not the truth. Not the whole truth, anyway. “Listen, to be honest, I don’t give a fuck. It’s gross, but it was consensual so whatever. But dude! She’s the queen! She’s also a psycho, manipulative bitch. Ohhhhh, don’t give me that face, she totally is! A thousand eyes and one, remember? Jesus, I can’t wait to see what Bloodraven has in store for you.”

“Bloodraven?!”

“Yes,” I spit. “I didn’t look like this until a month ago. I used to be cute. I always wanted a different nose and a square jaw, but now I’d kill to look like the old me again.”

“What is this?” A voice asks.

I turn a little to nod at King Robb. Someone must have woken him anyway. Poor dude.

“We’re having a conversation,” Jaime drawls. “Care to join?”

“What are you doing here?” Robb commands, ignoring the Lannister. His voice is stern and calm. It’s a good king voice. I bet it’s great on a battlefield. Or in be- No. I can’t go there. He’s an idiot. I do not sleep with idiots.

“The Gods wouldn’t let me sleep. They kept sending me the same dream each time I fell back asleep. Assholes. Like why couldn’t this have waited until morning? I’m so tired that I don’t even have the energy to eat and I’m starving.”

“What dream?”

“They want to talk to him.”

Robb curses.

“I know, right? Is there even a weirwood tree around here? But you, sir, I need to talk to you.”

“I’m not a knight,” the king grits out.

“I know that! It’s a term we use to chastise someone in my world!”

“You’d chastise me?!”

“Absolutely! Look at this! What would your father say? Where is the honor is treating someone like this?”

“Don’t presume to know what my father would have thought,” he says dangerously. Oh now, I’ve touched a nerve.

“Ned Stark was honorable to a fault. His honor is what got him killed. I don’t think he would have appreciated prisoners being treated like this. Farm animals aren’t treated like this. Do you know what they did to Elia Martell? And the Martells didn’t have a Lannister. How you treat Jaime sets a precedent for how they treat your sister!”

“He should have protected the Martell-“

“He was too occupied protecting the city from a mad king!”

We both break our necks to look back at Jaime. I knew, of course, but I didn’t think he would bring it up. I thought it I would I bring it up after I got him a bath and food.

“Do you know what Aerys’ last words were? Burn them all. He named a pyromancer hand of the king and planned to make his usurper ‘King of the Ashes’. I killed the pyromancer first. Aerys….he thought the fire and blood would turn him into a dragon. He didn’t even think he was dying when my sword was in him.”

Robb is quiet for a long time. Eventually, he sticks his sword next to mine and runs his hands over his face. We’re all dressed the same. I’m in the same leather pants I’ve had on for three days and a loose shirt that might have once been Robb’s. We’re all exhausted and tainted by death. Fate is a fickle bitch.

“I see those Lannister cloaks everyday. Red, to hide the blood, you know. And the screams…He raped Rhaella every other night. And The White Bull? The gallant Prince Lewyn Martell? Do you know what they said? ‘It’s your duty to protect the King, not the Queen’. I hear her screams every night.”

“Do you think of my brother everyday? Of his blood you spilled? Or my mother’s screams when the assassin-“

“What are you-“

“It wasn’t him,” I interrupt. “The man responsible for hiring the assassin is guilty of a thousand crimes. I’ll take care of him at one point, but he had nothing to do with the dagger.”

“Who was it .”

“Not here. Not now.” Not you. Littlefinger can’t be killed like that. It takes finesse, strategy, patience, not brute strength. “And fuck Rhaegar Targaryen. And...”

I trail off before I reveal that Lyanna Stark was an idiot and went of her own free will. Jon is too important. And I’m too tired for his conversation. Fucking bastard waking me up.

“Look guys, this has been great, but I’m exhausted. Can we please get him to a heart tree?”

Robb’s lips press into a thin line. He leaves anyway, muttering with a guy that looks like a badass Merlin. The dude’s beard puts Dumbledore’s to shame. I could make a cloak from it. Then, a few other men join in the hushed conversation. It’s taking so long. The manure has to be softer than the ground I’ve been sleeping on....

“There’s a grove an hour’s ride to the west. We’ll have an escort of ten men and he stays cuffed.”

I’m so sick of horses.

——————

True to the prophecy, it’s still dark when we arrive in the grove. I must have slept even less than I thought. It’s a little off into the forest. It began with the occasional weirwood amidst its darker brothers then gave way to a large circle of white trees. The largest has a sardonic smile carved into it. I wouldn’t be surprised if The Bastard carved it in his own likeness.

The men are all hesitant, but they don’t let it show until Robb drags Jaime off of his horse.

“No,” the king orders. “I’ll take him.”

Jaime becomes more compliant when Grey Wind nudges him forward. The ground is suddenly dry and even enough for him to stop dragging his feet. Robb very ungently forces him down to knees in front of the tree.

“Cut his forearm.”

“What?!” They both cry.

“He’s not of the North. He needs to share his blood. And slicing your palm for a magic ritual is so stupid. That shit hurts! And it’s so much easier to get it infected.”

“It’s a miracle I don’t have an infection alre-“ Jaime inhales sharply as Robb’s dagger slices his left arm. “Gods, Stark, not even a warning.”

“Hand on the tree,” Robb orders.

The man suddenly looks apprehensive. I take his right hand in mine and place my other on the trunk. I give him a small smile. I won’t make him go alone. I have a few choice words for Bloodraven anyway.

One moment I’m staring into green eyes and the next a single red one is smirking down at me.

“You,” I hiss, right before I charge.

Right before I trip.

Silver locks still slide over my shoulder, but I’m in the maxi skirt and crop top I was wearing at my time of death. We’re not in the Riverlands anymore either. I’m in a room made of red stone. This must be the Red Keep. Who knows with this asshole. He’s younger this time, in between my twenty two and Jaime’s thirty something. His tunic is more refined as well.

The more I look around, the more my anger fades. There are so many books! So many scrolls! There’s a shelf of crystals one one wall and a miniature chemistry set in corner. It looks like a shop from Skyrim that you could afford but you’d steal anyway to raise your sneaking skill. God, at least I’m not there I guess. Maybe. This world has dragons and zombies too. Less magic and cannibals though.

“Where are we?” I ask.

“Shiera’s library. She had the largest collection of written works on magic and history outside of the citadel.”

“Is it still there?”

“No. She took it back to her mother’s city in Essos. You have no use for it. I will teach you all that is required.”

I scowl at him. “Maybe I just wanted to read it.”

“You have enough things to discover.”

“Yeah, well, you need to discover the concept of time . Why the fuck couldn’t this wait until tomorrow? Do you know how completely-“

“You will be heading south soon. My reach does not extend so far.”

“Are we leaving tomorrow?”

“No.”

“Then why did I have to do this tonight?”

He frowns thoughtfully.

“Dude I’m exhausted! I’ve never even touched a horse and I was on one for weeks! Weeks! Ive never camped. Ive never swordfought-“

“I taught you all that I know-“

“I DIED!” I am a pizza roll. That one on the plate that was cooked so long that the shell was hardened and the goo boiled over the seams so you just fed it to the dog. That sad, scalding pizza roll is me. I’m angry and lonely and exhausted and overwhelmed and this asshole just keeps demanding more. I can’t hold in the tears. Sobs worthy of a Kardashian meme heave out of me. “I was DEAD. My life was just getting started and I died! I don’t have a family but I had so many friends. And so much fun! Do you know what I went through before? And I was finally living life like a regular kid. I’m only twenty two and my life is over.”

I’m so shocked that he hugs me that the tears subside enough for my breathing to even out. He holds me tight. It’s been so long since I’ve been held that I don’t know what to do.

“I hated them too. I loved my mother very much. I never saw her after the Gods called me away. I hardly remember any of them. Her features blend with Shiera’s when I think of them.”

He strokes my smooth hair. I want to laugh a little. He couldn’t have done that with my tangly curls.

“They made me their conduit. I killed my brother because of what had to be done. We weren’t well acquainted, but we shared blood. I committed so many sins, my child. I gave up so many things. And they only told me they were sorry and that I was loved. I hated them. I hated what I had to do. I hated their lame apologies.”

He pushes me back gently, forcing me to look up into his face. It’s not a pretty one. It’s sinister and birthmarked, but his cunning is unmistakeable. It’s evident in every line.

“I understand now. You are my conduit as I am theirs. My body is too weak to save Westeros, so you must do what I cannot. I am sorry, Zoe. Truly, I am sorry. And my heart bursts at your courage and grit.”

“Thank you,” I blubber.

He nods curtly and he’s back in commander mode. “I did not call you here for a leisurely chat. There is work to be done. First, do you want children?”

I choke on my snot. “What?!”

“Do you desire children?”

“Uh....no.”

“Never?”

Neither of us has a tissue and I don’t have sleeves. My face is a literal hot mess.

“I guess not,” I say through shuddering gasps as I wipe at the tears.

“The ability to create life is sacred. Will you sacrifice it?”

“For what?” I’m sleepy now. I was tired before, but there’s nothing like a good cry to put you to sleep.

”The price of my virility was so great that I never regretted it. Women have their own power. The fertility of your gender is tied to the moon and blood. Your price will be even greater. Will you pay the cost?”

“I....Yes. I will.”

He nods again. “You will bleed heavily for three days and never again. Regardless, you and the oathbreakers must head south before the moon is full. Do you understand?”

It’s a lot to take in, but I get it. “Yes.”

He doesn’t even say goodbye. He just throws me back into the clearing. Through the red leaves, I can see that the sky has turned purple. Jaime lies beside me, tears leaking down his temple. Robb jumps up at our feet.

“Seven hells!” He shouts, looking around almost comically.

His men instantly clamor forward. I don’t pay any of it the slightest bit of attention. I’m doubled over, whimpering at the sudden pain twisting in my belly.


End file.
